


Verdant Hearts

by EmeraldSage



Series: Project Stardust (ID: 11201) [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Genetic Engineering, Human Experimentation, I wrote this in less than 12 hours, M/M, Rival FrUK, Scientist Arthur, Sort of a Prequel to Cleaving Stars, enjoy, jailbreak, read that first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22992718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldSage/pseuds/EmeraldSage
Summary: Arthur was tired.  He was tired of fighting when he wanted to heal.  He was tired of unmaking things when he wanted to build them higher.  He was tired of watching horror and being unable to do anything about it.Thankfully, he knew someone who could help him fix that.
Relationships: England/France (Hetalia)
Series: Project Stardust (ID: 11201) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650565
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	Verdant Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> So, for any of y'all who picked up that slight hint of FrUK in "Cleaving Stars," yes, this is what it's referring to!
> 
> Also, the inspiration for this piece hit my hard when I woke up this morning, and has not stopped since. I've written for just under 12 hours and I cannot believe I did this.
> 
> Please let me know what y'all think! Your wonderful comments drive me, and I love to hear what y'all have to say! Please enjoy!

The corridor was a dull steel color, an ominous, imposing personality radiating from its walls. The hallways were clinically sterile, nothing out of place, and always inspired a sense of desolation from those who lived within the halls.

It was everything he expected when he finally realized the true purpose and application of his research.

The data readouts were tucked into his briefcase, written on the back of cafeteria napkins and hidden inside the travel mug he was taking home. The project files he was borrowing while home to “review” just in case he missed something on the latest round of observation.

He passed through the security screening on his way out, and was waved off cheerily by the normal staff. He nodded, not daring to say a word, and stepped through sliding doors into the early evening sunset. The equivalent of an information bombshell was tucked away in his pocket, and no one would ever check him. Why would they? He was only a former hero, who’d never used his abilities in active duty combat.

He doubted his employers even knew what abilities his enhancement had given him.

But the man he was going to visit would never forget.

* * *

The door chimed, and Francis grinned, turning away from the patron he’d been charming to check the entrance, only to double take.

“Well, _well,_ ” he murmured, spying that dark coated figure moving towards him, “what on earth did I do to deserve a visit from the Siren of Eastwood?”

A straw blond brow raised, green eyes darting to his face and then away as a scowl formed on that pretty face, “You know, I haven’t gone by that title in a _very_ long time, Francis.”

“Oh, _cher_ , I know that,” he hummed, “It’s _Verdant_ now, isn’t it?”

Arthur scowled at him, “You know I’m retired, you damned frog.”

Francis snorted, turning away from the dearly missed sight in front of him to grab a bottle of whiskey he stored for this very purpose, pouring a glass and sliding it down the bar. It stopped in front of Arthur, who blinked at it, before glancing back at Francis, who gestured at it with the glass of wine he’d been nursing before Arthur had come in. “Go on, _mon lapin_ ,” he coaxed, “It’s on the house tonight.”

They sat in silence for a brief minute, the only sound coming from the pub-goers around them. Francis stared at his counterpart, noting the tension in the shoulders, the darkness of his eyes, and said, “What’s brought you to my territory, then, Arthur?”

Arthur’s eyes were gleaming, and yet, unfathomable. He set the glass down with a soft chink, staring into it for a moment’s contemplation, and then locked eyes with Francis, and said, “I need your help.”

Almost blown over by the sudden show of trust - to anyone who knew of Francis’s abilities, locking eyes was a kind of unmistakable _declaration,_ and from this man, of all people - he leaned in, eyes narrowing, “Oh?” he asked.

Arthur inhaled sharply, eyes darting around one more time to be sure of who all was in their vicinity, before leaning closer, voice dropping down to a whisper, and said, “Have you heard of Project Legion?”

Francis blinked, fishing around in his mind, before something clicked, “The genetics program?” he hummed, “Something about research for enhancing existing genetic enhancements. It was one of those programs like the designer baby concept - highly controversial. I thought they pulled the plug on it a few years ago.”

Arthur exhaled quietly, “It’s worse than that,” he murmured softly, “It’s still active. And they’re not just researching.”

Francis’s eyes narrowed, a hint of their gleam brightening, “What do you mean?” he demanded sharply, “And how do you know this?”

Arthur almost winced, “I was part of the research team,” he admitted reluctantly, “And I thought it was a normal research project until a few weeks ago, when I realized…,” he swallowed.

“Realized _what?_ ”

“They’re experimenting on _kids_ , Francis,” Arthur said, running a hand through his hair, grief in his eyes. “I met a few of them - the kids, god, none of them are even of age - before they went through the next bout of experiments. I think the others thought I _knew,_ because apparently we were tested for it when we came on board. I was on rotation in the cell blocks a few days ago, so I got to speak with them. Some of them have been there for over _ten years._ ”

Francis _froze._

“You’re a flighty bastard, you’re overly flirty, we’ve never been able to hold our relationship together and we’ll never agree on how to use our powers,” he was informed bluntly, “but we can’t let this kind of thing stand.”

“And what,” Francis began slowly, starting to recognize where the stubbornness in his former partner’s eyes was directed, “exactly, can we do about this?”

Green eyes gleamed, “We’re going to help them stage a jailbreak.”

Francis set his own drink down on the bar and leaned forwards, “Tell me.”

* * *

It took them nearly another month to iron out all the details, and another month to throw off suspicion. There was too much at stake for them to even dare risk any sort of attention from Arthur’s employers - the names of which had Francis swearing and grabbing for the cheap wine college students used to get drunk, fast.

Fortunately, Arthur and Francis had long been on and off again lovers and partners, so them suddenly spending time together again wasn’t anything surprising. And though they had been very notable, highly visible rivals as hero and vigilante, no one knew what Verdant’s powers were, let alone how similar they were to Valentine’s, and more importantly, no one knew who was behind the mask. Arthur had been recruited as a scientist, not a hero, which had been part of the attraction to the job offer.

Getting a plan together was possibly the hardest part. They knew the system, and what they needed to get done, but being on and off again partners and occasional rivals had its downsides.

“I’m not enchanting the entire bloody security division!”

“And then what is the point of using two _enchanters_ , _sourcils_?”

Mainly, that they had a lot of conversations like those.

In the end, they did have a rough outline for their plan. Arthur was planning on resigning, taking his pension from the “good government work” he’d been doing, and that left a critical window for them to use his unlimited access to the facility and get in. But they couldn’t risk getting all the kids out. They’d never be able to do it in time. So, everything hinged on one particular aspect of the plan. Or rather, one player. The catalyst.

“Most of the kids in there are so beaten down that they won’t risk the consequences of rebelling,” Arthur admitted softly one night, playing with his glass in the hopes that he’d be distracted from the dark path his thoughts were headed down. “Most of them aren’t as successful as the higher ups want them to be, so there wouldn’t be any hesitation in - in terminating them if they’re too _troublesome._ ”

Francis watched him, skin tightening around his eyes as he watched Arthur’s white-knuckled grip on the glass tighten.

“But...there is one kid,” he said, slowly, “he’s the most successful project in the lab. Hell, the general in charge of the program has supervised a lot of his training. They’re fascinated by him. He’s the only one who showed any kind of receptiveness to the genetic alteration early on. To this day, we don’t know why. But he’s so powerful, Francis. He’s cunning, and he’s kind. I’ve seen him try and take on punishments from the other kids when they do something stupid. He’s been there almost ten years, and he’s still got so much heart. I think if anyone could trigger this thing, it would be him.”

“You’ll have to figure out how receptive he would be to this,” Francis murmured contemplatively, “without giving it away, at least.”

Arthur’s lips twisted into a frown, “We’ll figure something out,” he said.

But time ran out before they could. Arthur received the news that a host of the kids - the _projects_ , the memo had said - were slated for termination since they weren’t progressing enough to justify the expense of maintaining them. And the labs certainly couldn’t risk freeing the kids and having them expose everything the project was actually about. So, they would take some samples to store just in case, and terminate the projects. All the kinks, arguments, and hesitations they had about the plan no longer mattered. There was a deadline now.

The plan was a go.

* * *

Their plan began on an easy enough day. They had enough time for Arthur to put in his two weeks notice, and not have it be suspected as a result of the memo’s declaration. Which saw him standing impatiently at the lab’s security desk two weeks later, filling out the last of the paperwork.

Arthur’s face was unreadable as the tech went through the motions, silently clocking all activity around them. It was rather late in the day, just before a late dinner was served to all the kids in the facility, but before the nightly lockdown.

“Alright sir,” the tech confirmed, dark eyes surveying the console’s data before darting back up to his face, “You’re all set. I just need your keycards. Your access to the facilities should expire around midnight, so I hope you’ve gotten all your personal possessions. Security can let you in later if you’ve forgotten something.”

Dark eyes glanced up and behind him, seeing a suitcase and a set of boxes sitting on a 

dolly a few feet behind him, and nodding to him.

“Of course,” Arthur said, handing over one of his two keycards and a plain white plastic card of the same shape. The tech nodded to him, and then blinked at the two cards he’d been handed.

“Sir, I need both your keycards,” he said, frowning.

And then, Arthur _smiled_ , leaning close, and said, “I think you’re mistaken,” eyes gleaming with an odd light almost unnoticeable to anyone watching, voice laced with something soft and coaxing _,_ “I’ve given you both my keycards.”

The tech’s eyes glazed over for a split second, and then blinked, eyes darting down to the console, and then to the cards, before the haze cleared. “Of course sir, I’m sorry for the confusion.”

“Yes, of course,” Arthur agreed mildly as he watched the tech file them away, reporting them as returned, “Not a problem at all.”

* * *

Getting in was easy enough when Francis simply had to stare into the lovely eyes of one of the flustered culinary personnel and ask for their badge and, oh they’re looking a little pale, shouldn’t they be home sick - no, don’t bother calling in, you’ve already done that, yes there you go, drive safely!

Sometimes, he loved his powers. A shame Arthur could never feel the same way about his own.

But it was a matter of a little makeup and his disguise kit put to work before he could pass someone confidently as the young worker he’d stalked and replaced for the evening. He almost felt bad for what would happen when the deception was discovered, but right now, he had other priorities.

This particular cell block that his co-conspirator had directed him to was dreary and well-secured. There were three layers of forcefield technology that the key-card bypassed: the primary one shrouding the entire block, the secondary field that covered the cells as a whole to protect anyone who deactivated the primary, and the tertiary which corresponded with each individual cell. Each cell had a scanner right next to the door, both inside and out, to ensure that none of the lab workers would ever get trapped inside. The cells themselves were small rooms with steel trap doors. There was a bed, a desk, a small chest of drawers, and a bookshelf. They actually reminded Francis of his old college dorm room, with a small bathroom sectioned off in the corner.

But that only served to remind him, the moment he entered the first cell, that these were prisons for _children_. Scared and wary children who’d resigned themselves to the kinds of horrors a lab would inspire. Every time he entered another cell, deactivating the forcefield to leave food on the desk, and saw another wary face with empty eyes devoid of hope, every time he’d had to force himself to push away the horror building inside him and keep his face neutral. His face was visible, even disguised, and he _had_ to keep up a facade, or it wouldn’t work. Especially since there was a guard right outside the block ready to let him back out, and watching him carefully.

And here it was, the final cell - the most heavily secured, too, he noted - and the one that his _lapin_ was resting all his hopes on.

_“He’s the key, Francis,” Arthur had whispered to him across the bar, the heavy bass ripping from the stage overwhelming the words to any potential eavesdroppers, “If he can get out, he’ll get everyone out. As many as he can. If he can’t,” Arthur swallowed, the devastation growing in his eyes, “none of the others will ever have a chance.”_

The sound of the forcefield discharging as he entered the cell was shrill in his ears, and he still almost couldn’t hear it over the pounding of his heart. The teenager in this cell was sitting on his bed, a book in his hands, but he looked up when Francis entered, and suddenly the vigilante _understood._

At first glance, the teenager was just as wary, just as tired as the others. But his eyes...

Blue eyes were calculating, they were _watchful_. Wary, yes, but there was a spark of _drive_ that burned in them, searing the air around him into something powerful that _lingered._ Maybe the others hadn’t given up, maybe they held a kernel of hope deep inside them, but neither he nor Arthur could rely on that long-buried instinct to take the first possible move. But this one….

He was _waiting_.

Suddenly the doubled up guard at the end of the corridor made sense. It wasn’t just for all these particularly powerful kids. It was for _this one_. Powerful or not, this one would risk it all.

And that was exactly what Francis needed from him.

So he smiled, met wary, watchful eyes, and tapped the bottom of the tray as he set it down on the desk.

And then walked right back out the door, letting it swing shut behind him, with blue eyes burning through steel, concrete, and electricity to sear right through him.

* * *

Project Stardust _(ID: 11201_ ) watched the retreating back of the lab worker who’d brought him dinner with narrowed eyes. The moment he heard the cell block’s door engage, and the whir of the primary forcefield activating, he pushed off the bed, setting the book to the side, and moved over to the desk. The tray sat there inconspicuously, as it normally did. Nothing sharp enough to use as a weapon - either against the techs that interacted with them, or on themselves to end the torment - and nothing out of the ordinary. Just the usual bland, protein rich food that they were usually fed.

All the same, he intentionally shifted his frame to block off the single camera from seeing the quick movement of his hands. He slid them against the worn metal and forced himself not to freeze as fingertips brushed against something plasticky and hard taped to the underside of the tray. Quick sleight of hand detached it from the tray and slipped it right into the dull, just baggy enough sleeve.

He ate mindlessly, mind distant and energy dancing around him restlessly. Once he was done, he set the tray back down on the desk and vanished into the bathroom. The bathroom which, out of the most fucked up sense of privacy yet, had _no cameras_. Finally, _finally_ unseen, he tugged out the plastic card from his sleeve and _stared._

It was a security pass.

More importantly, it was a _scientist’s security access pass_.

He felt his heart rate skyrocket, everything else in the world fading out except the sudden pounding of his heart echoing in his ears.

This was _Dr. Kirkland’s_ security pass. Dr. Kirkland whose last day had been _today,_ which meant that his security access expired sometime tonight.

_This was his chance_.

The lab techs wouldn’t come again until morning. They were all locked in for the night as the facility began its shut down process. The staff switched over to a skeleton crew, with bare minimum guards given the security measures. Which means if he wanted to get out, he had to _do it now._ And if he was going to get out, he was taking everyone he could with him.

Well, that just meant he didn’t have to be subtle about it.

Mind made up, he stood, moving out through his room, and up to the small barred window in the cell door. Heart in his chest as he prayed the audio in the cell didn’t carry, he said, “Hack?”

There was a heavy, startled silence in the cell block, before a surprised voice said, “Stardust?”

“The audio’s out?”

A sharp inhale, a pause, and then, “Yes.”

He swallowed, feeling the adrenaline pulsing through his veins. His powers danced just under his skin, the forcefield keeping them at bay. He looked down at the card concealed in the palm of his hand, and smiled.

“Take the visual,” he said, “and get ready.” He heard the sudden shocked inhales and the sound of frantic scrambling as he pressed his palm with the key card against the cell’s scanner. The door beeped, and slid open. And he stepped through.

All eyes in the cell block were on him, and he grinned.

“All audio and visual in the cell block are down, fritzing on other areas of the compound,” Hack reported from two doors down, as Stardust strode across to the main access panel, “False breach alert two blocks down, guards on this level are moving towards it.”

“You’re the best, Hack,” he laughed, the words almost drowned out as the cell block beeped and all the doors swung open. The forcefield deactivated. “Any way you can take down the entire grid?”

He looked over his shoulder as Hack tumbled out of the cell, arms locked tight around the minuscule amount of technology some of the more sympathetic techs let her have, and smiled at the devious expression on her face. He eyed every one of his cellmates, watching the spark gleam and grow in their eyes, just as Hack said, viciously, “With pleasure.”

He smirked, “Good,” he said, white starfire and negative space rippling into existence between his palms, “cause we’re taking the easy way out.”

* * *

Valentine was half-way down the street when he heard the first _BOOM_ come from the compound he’d just fled from. Fire - white-hot and gleaming - billowed outwards as the compound came to life with the glow of alarms and the screech of klaxons wailing into the night. And he grinned as those wary, empty-eyed kids who’d been through hell _finally_ made their jailbreak.

* * *

Verdant grunted, in the midst of dragging another unconscious guard just outside of the perimeter, when the explosion went off. He’d done part of his job, taking out the guards and leaving the gate open and unguarded. With the skill he knew some of the kids concealed, they’d be able to tell there was an open escape. After sabotaging the communications relay to block any outgoing calls for reinforcements, it gave them a hell of a chance to run free. He might not be able to help more directly, but...he glanced back at the billow of starfire.

He’d make sure none of those kids went back to that hell. He swore it.

* * *

The general slammed his hands down into the metal table, denting it in his fury. He was practically white with the rage that was thrumming through his being as he watched and rewatched and rewatched the same footage that raced across the screen. 

In front of him, across the table, and equally white faced, although likely for a different reason entirely, a team of people sat. All of whom could have been, arguably, responsible in some way for the catastrophe that had just annihilated any chance of Project Legion’s success. The head of security who’d been on duty that night, the tech staff managing the security camera station, the culinary staff member who’d run food service for the cell blocks where the jailbreak began, and the one lone lab tech who’d been in possession of Dr. Arthur Kirkland’s access cards before one of them somehow managed to appear in the possession of _Project Stardust_. The general’s personal aid, who’d reviewed the situation from the night prior, was standing by the door, carefully out of the elder man’s range.

“We were on track for scientific breakthrough - for the best success we could’ve expected from this project,” the general murmured, coldly vicious, “So, gentlemen, explain to me how, in _one night_ , we lost _every project in our possession._ ”

The tech swallowed. The head of security sat straighter, “We,” he cleared his throat, “From what we’ve seen, we think that this was an inside job. Someone knew that Dr. Kirkland was planning on retiring, and they were able to gain access to his key card and clearance. Someone on the culinary staff was out sick, but had forgotten to call in, so someone else - we don’t know who, just yet - was able to sneak the pass into the Cell Block Alpha, and passed it to Project Stardust,” they all cringed as the general made an involuntary snarling noise, “who coordinated the first series of explosions, and managed to release the rest of the projects.”

The security station monitor took over, “We think that once the forcefield went off line in Cell Block Alpha,” he said nervously, “Project Hacker was able to get into the grid system and pull it all offline. We know that there were two non-project forces at work, given that all the guards on the gate were unconscious when the projects broke out of the compound. Someone outside the compound jammed the frequencies, so no backup appeared when requested.”

“And Dr. Kirkland’s role in all this?” the general asked, sibilant.

The tech spoke up, then, “We had eyes on him, last night,” he said, “The team watching him said he’d gotten in early, ordered takeaway, and stayed up late reading. They could see him through the window.”

“And that it was his access pass that was used?”

“The inside man that we missed must’ve gotten a hold of it somehow,” the tech said quietly, “I remember Dr. Kirkland handing over both his cards. I filed them appropriately, and then sent them off to the lab for destruction. He left without any fanfare, and he’s never shown any indication of concern for the project.”

“The security cameras footage we mined from the compound can corroborate that,” the general’s personal aid chimed in, having reviewed the footage himself. 

The general sighed, releasing some tension, “Keep a pair of eyes on him for a few months, just to make sure we’re not missing anything. What else has come up about this break out?”

* * *

Daylight seeped through the gastropub’s slanted window blinds, gleaming against the polished wood of the bar. Two drinks sat opposite each other, a glass of whiskey on the bar side, and a glass of wine on the bartender’s.

“We did it.”

Arthur hummed. Francis felt the corner of his lips twitch.

“You were able to get directions to the kids?”

Arthur nodded, “I have a friend who owes me a favor,” he murmured, “they connected with Hack and gave her a list of safe houses the League has but doesn’t use. The military won’t think to look for them there, yet. It’ll give them some time.”

Francis hummed, “They’re watching you,” he warned, letting his eyes stray to the shadows across the street he’d been deliberately ignoring.

“We knew they would,” Arthur replied. “It would’ve been worse if you hadn’t gotten in touch with that illusionist, to create the alibis.”

“We knew the risks, otherwise, _cher_.”

To that, Arthur simply hummed.

“I think I’m going to visit my family,” the younger of the pair said, suddenly, and Francis raised a brow. It was quite surprising, he knew Arthur was not on the best terms with his brothers. “I might move afterwards. I just...wanted you to know.”

Francis felt a smile curl on his lips, “Of course, _mon lapin_ ,” he said, warmth flooding him at the way Arthur flushed and then fussed. The younger stood, abruptly, said goodbye and nodded to him, before walking away.

“Don’t be a stranger, _mon coeur_ ,” he murmured softly, watching that beloved figure pause, silhouetted in the daylight filtering in through the now open door, before he waltzed right back out of Francis’s life. It wasn’t surprising to realize that it didn’t bother him overly much.

He’d see him again, sometime soon.


End file.
